


Which Binds You: Chains or Love?

by Skippyjo94



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Historical, Multi, Nobility Clint, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Servant Bucky, Slave Natasha, definitely not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skippyjo94/pseuds/Skippyjo94
Summary: Clint Barton became an Earl after his parents died.  Natasha became a slave in the Barton household after hers died.  Clint needs Natasha for something she had never even considered: marriage.  With pressure from his advisors to marry and produce an heir for the Barton title, Clint needs someone who won't expect him to actually "be a husband" to them, leaving him free to pursue his partner of choice.  Who better than Natasha, the slave his family brought on who hates everything he stands for?And Bucky just wants Master Barton to marry so they can be left in peace, so they can continue on as they have been away from anymore prying eyes.  So the gorgeous, strong-willed redhead who seems to want nothing to do with anyone on the estate seems like a prime candidate.  Added benefits like her feisty personality and pretty face don't hurt either.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Poly Armory Tropes and AUs





	1. Need

**Author's Note:**

> My prompts for this were Slave au and Fake Dating. Well, my mind went only one place for this so it's more of a fake marriage or fake engagement story? I think it still works.
> 
> It is set historically because that's where my mind goes for slaves and fake marriage situations. That being said, I ONLY KNOW THINGS FROM OTHER THINGS I HAVE READ! I love reading historical stuff, but historical romances are where I get 85-90% of my information and I did very little research on the details here cause I just wanted it to be short and character centered, so please forgive me for bad info! I know, I hate it too but I just... I'm sorry, okay? I did my best anyway!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Barton has summoned Natasha to speak with him, dismissing everyone else from the room save for her and his ever present servant, Mister Barnes. He has a very particular request for her, one that others cannot know of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so this was supposed to be shorter. Story of my life at this point. I signed up to do this fic for yet another server event (no self control) and it... got away from me. Soooooo now it's chapters. Woo.
> 
> Anyway, hope it's okay. It has been very fun but also challenging to write. This is my first real attempt at this particular pairing, so I fingers crossed I manage to do it justice! Enjoy!

"I need you, Natasha."

She never expected those words to come from his mouth. This man, the one she hates above all others, the man who has taken her freedom, claiming to need her.

Doing her best to disguise it, she analyzes his expression, but her lack of familiarity sets her at a distinct disadvantage.

Her face must have hinted at her disbelief. He continues, "You are a beautiful, strong, intelligent, young woman. All of which are attributes befitting a partner for someone of my standing."

… no, that didn't clear anything up. But she is done waiting for his explanation.

"I'm not sure what you think I will be helping you with,  _ my lord _ , but perhaps I haven't made my position clear. I would rather  _ die _ than willingly help you succeed in any of what you might deem 'worthy pursuits.'"

Maybe that will goad him into speaking more plainly. Or, if she's lucky, he might just execute her on the spot for being so disrespectful of his station, so high above her own.

"Ah, but then you wouldn't have the chance to earn the one thing you most desire." His golden hair and bright blue eyes might make him seem innocent to an outsider, but she knows there's no truth to the image. 

"The only thing left that means anything to me is the one thing I will never get. You have seen to that quite thoroughly." She sneers at the suggestion, losing control of her carefully constructed mask of neutrality at the notion that she would ever desire something more than her freedom.

She knows better than to get her hopes up. Men of his ilk tend to dangle such promises in people's faces with no intention to ever follow through. She had learned that the hard way. Never again would she believe anything from the mouth of a noble.

"I'm not sure why you have chosen to hate me so much. Nothing I have ever done has been to your detriment." 

The fact that he spoke an unfortunate truth angered her all the more. Her family's deaths were his fault, but not directly. They had been casualties of a battle he had been commanding. Sad, but not considered a terrible tragedy in the grand scheme of things. 

Only to her.

When faced with the choice to turn a blind eye to the poor girl, alone and destitute, and let her die along with them, she had been spared. Although, as she was brought on as another slave in his household, brought in using chains, she remains unconvinced that 'being spared' had counted for much.

Seeing her lack of reaction and taking it for uncertainty, he presses. "Have I ever treated you unfairly? Have I ever let you be ill and go untreated, or wounded and uncared for? Have you ever gone hungry or thirsty by my own hand? Have you suffered any abuses under my roof? If so, please, speak plainly."

Natasha bites her tongue. She could rail against him all evening and it wouldn't change anything.

As she has no home and no possessions to her name, she has been forced to live in the manor with the Bartons, although in the slave quarters, far from any of their chambers, and rely on their goodwill to provide for her every need: boarding, food, clothes, her entire life belonged to the Bartons and had for years. And when his parents were killed not long after she lost her own family, the responsibility had fallen to Clint instead.

She knows she's better off than some. She has seen others, even occasional paid servants accompanying their master's on their travels, dingy clothes, hunger palpable on their faces, children with barely enough energy to play. It all broke her heart. 

None of that would be allowed to stand at the Barton estate. But the fact of the matter remains, she is indebted to the people here and has been for years, so now there's no escape for her.

It's a nice prison, but a prison nonetheless.

"No, my lord. Nothing." She has to refrain from gritting her teeth as the words pass her lips.

"Then what is it you oppose so strongly you would rather die? Because, I must admit, I have heard the stories of your resistance to conform to life here since… well, the day you arrived, really." He's frowning to himself, his honest confusion showing through: a notch in his usually indifferent armor, as though truly concerned with why she's so unhappy. "What makes you so desperate to escape these walls?"

_ Is that why you picked me? You thought I would be easy to manipulate? That you could just paint a pretty picture of my freedom and I would fall at your feet to get it? _

She wants to say it. Wants to say every word screaming out in her mind that this man is cruel and not to be trusted. Just like she had been taught all her life, her family's inherent distrust for the nobility running deep, and not without reason, in her veins.

Though try as she might, she can't come up with anything this particular Barton had done to her personally to perpetuate it. So what reason could she give him?

"Walls are still walls, no matter how pretty the pattern. My Lord."

She watches as the words settle in his mind, understanding slowly seeping in. Eventually, he lets out a small chuckle, hand coming up to rub his chin just below his lips. "You aren't displeased here then. You are displeased because you can go nowhere else." 

Natasha tempers her immediate reaction of either scoffing or rolling her eyes, because of course he would find a way that he was not to blame for her unhappiness. And it was all done without considering how he would like it if the situation were reversed. If he were unable to escape the constant reminder of his inability to control his own life.

Instead, she lowers her gaze as is expected of a lowly slave in the presence of their master, and in a reasonable fashion she's relatively proud of herself for achieving, she asks, "How many birds do you know who welcome their cages?"

Barton appears to actually think on her words. Although she finds, with a quick peek snuck up at him, a fire lit behind his eyes, as though this was a better outcome than he could've hoped for. 

Eventually coming to some conclusion, he smiles. It looks unnervingly soft, as is his voice when he speaks.

"You've not made any attempt to show me proper respect before so far, don't start now. Not on my account." Stepping away from the wall he had been leaning on, he crosses the room, coming to a stop halfway to her. 

Raising her chin so she can look him in the eye, she does her best to seal off her expression, forcing her jaw to relax and her eyes to remain neutral. Her red hair and pale skin have always been a detriment to hiding her emotions, but over the years she has gotten better and better at controlling it. Now she only has to make it out of the room before that tenuous hold wears off.

"Well? Come forward. You have given no indication you fear me, don't be shy now."

Slowly but purposefully, she strides toward him. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she watches as delight flickers behind them. For the first time, she takes notice of the man standing in the shadows of the room. 

He had moved; that's what had caught her attention. His hand is gripped around the handle of his sword, as though readying to draw it and defend his master should the need arise. 

Of course, she knows of the man. Master Barton is rarely seen without him. Mister Barnes, if she isn't mistaken. The loyal bodyguard, or manservant, or whatever title he's claiming that day. She knows he has run the gamut. He'd been at Barton's side since before his parents died, since before he had inherited the Earldom. 

Childhood friends, was the story she had heard. Friends, separated by Barton's title and Barnes's lack of one. Clearly that hadn't stopped Clint, finding a loophole or workaround that had allowed him to appoint his dearest friend to work as his personal shadow.

She comes to a stop in front of her master, and, rather than giving the customary head bow, raises her chin even higher, maintaining eye contact despite the extra head of height he had on her.

Many would consider it impolite to be so forward with one's master, but she had been told once already not to shy away from him and she would be damned if she let him take away what little power that gave her.

Raising her eyebrows expectantly at him, she sees Barnes in the background shift his gaze back to Barton, the wisps of his hair falling into his eyes in a way that would be charming if he didn't look so menacing.

"As I said before, I need you." Clint studies her as he says it. Natasha still refuses to react until she has more information. "There are certain expectations placed on me due to my title and status within the nobility. As I'm sure you are aware."

Natasha nods once. While it is a mystery what all the duties of the nobility entail, there are certain things that go without saying. She gets a sinking feeling in her gut as the most obvious crosses her mind.

There are only so many things a noble could need of a slave of the opposite gender. None of them bode well for her. 

She swallows down the shock of fear that brings her and focuses back on the present. 

"I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that we are alone in the room. Save for Mister Barnes, of course." He gestures behind himself, to the man still standing in the shadows. "That is because, unfortunate as it may be, no one else can know of this conversation."

His eyes were carrying some deeper meaning, imploring, begging Natasha to understand.

She does. The servants aren't to be trusted with this arrangement, whatever it is he is about to propose.

"Of course, My Lord." Maintaining her facade of indifference is becoming increasingly difficult now, due to an unfortunate mix of fear and curiosity.

A deep sigh follows, like he had been expecting her to be more difficult.

Good. If he is asking a favor of her, he needs to at least know who he's jumping into bed with.

Master Barton clears his throat and begins, jumping right into the deep end. "I am in need of a wife."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, thanks for reading! I know the chapter was crazy short, but I am planning to post one a day until it is finished to make up for it. I have up through chapter four ready to go, just one final read through before posting, plus more chapters written with editing still to come. Kinda excited cause I have never had this much done and waiting to post before.
> 
> I do have vacation coming up so, like I said, the plan is a chapter a day, but I have no idea what my days will be like, so if not, bear with me!
> 
> Sorry for rambling! Let me know if it was any good!


	2. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint explains his position to Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! This bodes well that I have gotten two chapters up in two days. Fingers crossed I stay on track like this.
> 
> Enjoy!

_ "I need a wife." _

Natasha has a moment where the world stops moving, leaving her spinning, free of any grounding source. When she comes crashing back down, she finds Master Barton still there in front of her, watching her closely.

So it had happened then. For a moment, she had her doubts.

She finds her voice slowly, her thoughts drowning each other in their efforts to be saved from the sudden flood.

"I'm afraid I don't understand how that pertains to you needing a favor from me." No title or honorific at the end. If he was going to throw her for a loop like this, he was going to have to be understanding of her lack of propriety while she finds her balance again.

Nodding like he had anticipated the confusion, Barton crosses his arms over his chest, preparing to argue his case. Natasha has to admit, he makes an imposing figure like that, physically. Tall and strong, muscular, the definition of what his title suggests: powerful.

Slowly, looking down at her with a guarded expression, he explains. "My advisors are beginning to pressure me to marry. To find a wife in order to produce an heir."

Natasha nods. Almost every man's obligation: ensure they have an heir to pass on their family name and legacy. The more prestigious the title, the more pressure to marry and produce said heir.

"You see, the problem is that I have no desire for a wife. I am not… so inclined." There was more behind his explanation that Natasha was still missing. She narrows her eyes, quickly tiring of listening to him speaking in circles.

"Perhaps it would help if you were to speak plainly. I have little patience for half truths." Frustration making her brave, she presses her luck a bit. If he needs her as he says he does, he will be lenient. 

If not, it ceases to be her problem.

Barton huffs a laugh. "You are far too bold, Natasha. Were the situation different, it would make finding a husband difficult for you."

"I am. And fortunately, I have no desire for a husband." She raises an eyebrow in challenge. "It seems on that, at least, we are in agreement." 

Looking over the man's shoulder, she sees Barnes shake with suppressed laughter. When Barton speaks again, it isn't directed at her anymore, although he doesn't break eye contact with her. "Do you hear the attitude she takes with me? You truly think she is the best choice?"

Shrugging out of his silent shadow role, Barnes answers, "You think any meek, timid, little thing would even stand to hear your plan?" He's smirking, making his way to Natasha and her master in the middle of the room. "Clint, anyone else and you'd have them turning tail to run the other direction the moment you dismissed the others from the room."

Natasha is no longer certain what the expectation is for her. If Barnes can speak so freely with Barton, so  _ familiar _ , what has she stumbled into?

Barnes notes her confusion and addresses her. "What Clint is too eloquently trying to say is," he rolls his eyes turning to face the man briefly before looking back to Natasha. "We need to find someone for him to marry. Someone who won't mind being part of a marriage that's just for show. I told him you were the best candidate."

Natasha blinks at him. "Me? His slave? You think I am the best candidate to marry him, a man I hate, when I have no intention of ever marrying, so that he can continue on with whatever women he pleases while I 'do my duty' and give him an heir. Ignoring the fact I will have given up what little freedom I have left?"

She knows as well as any other resident of the manor that her master prefers not to be tied down to just one partner. He is wildly popular among the women for that image.

Barnes looks at her steadily, trying to gauge her reaction. "No," he answers slowly. He reaches out a hand and takes hold of one of Barton's. "We are asking you to marry Clint so he doesn't have to maintain that image any longer. And so he doesn't end up married to a real wife, with certain... expectations of her husband. Expectations he will, for obvious reasons, not be fulfilling."

Shock. Overwhelming shock is the only thing Natasha can register. She lets her eyes flick between the two men, both with hesitant expressions on their faces, before her gaze catches on their clasped hands.

Oh.

She does understand. It takes shockingly little for her to catch up. Just like they must have known to expect from her. They had chosen her for a reason, after all. Or Barnes had, at least.

"You want me to act as a front?"

Barton looks at her almost apologetically. "It would be a marriage of convenience. My advisors would be pacified. You, of course, would be elevated to the status befitting my wife. You would have to remain here for a time, true, but then after several years, when it became clear we had done all we could to… produce an heir, we could come to an agreement of sorts."

Natasha tries to process the information being hurled at her, but it's so much. Her own swirling thoughts begin to make her dizzy, threaten to prevent her from taking in anything new. Which, considering the context of their conversation, she needs to stay present for whatever remains.

"What kind of arrangement?" She hears herself ask the question and is impressed. That is a good question. She wishes she could remember thinking of it.

"Well, you say you feel caged here. I am certain we could find a cage that might please you. Away from this place." Barton's eyes are softer than she cares to notice as he says it. Almost like he knows what those words do to her heart. Can feel the tightness, like a fist around the organ, trying to restrict it's beating.

Or has felt it himself, his own heart struggling in the same manner.

"Away from you." She knows it's one of the things he has intentionally left unsaid. Surely he would never plan to leave the estate, not while he held the title. Which, if the plan he was presenting to her was successful, he would never have a direct heir, leaving the title to pass laterally to some other blood relation.

"Yes. I would remain on the estate." He looks at the man beside him, expression hopeful. "And with James."

Barnes, or James, apparently, raises their twined hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss to Barton's knuckles.

Clint's knuckles? Her master? How is one expected to address a man proposing a sham of a marriage? 

She is drawn out of her mind again by more words. "We would remain married, of course. You would maintain the protection of my name and be well taken care of. A portion of my assets would be set aside in your name, and your name alone. Wherever you settle, the land would of course be deeded to you. You would have control over the household, both here for the remainder of your stay and then, later, at the property of your choosing."

James speaks up again. "We would have a lawyer draw up documents. Protections in place for both parties." Natasha jerks back, physically moved by the shock that induces. "We have no intention to take advantage of you, ma'am. Neither of us are under any illusions. We are well aware that we benefit from this much more than you ever could."

Natasha looks at Barton. "He's right. I am left with painfully few options. You have the power in this negotiation, that is no secret. My fate in your hands."

It's so far from anything she has ever wanted for her life, but at the same time is exactly the answer she had resigned herself to never finding. Her ticket out of this place. She can see it, right there in front of her, close enough she could touch it. She need only reach out and take it.

"I would not hold you to any wifely expectations, for obvious reasons. Provided you remain discreet, I will afford you the same courtesy you afford me in turning a blind eye to any partners you choose to entertain, romantic or otherwise."

She nods, numb to the scandalous details being discussed. 

"As we will not be producing any children through our union, I would be accepting of any children that may come during your stay here." He looks a bit pained at the mention of children. Yes, she thinks. That must be difficult to accept in their position, no way to have a child of their own.

  
She would never have guessed him to be the kind to want a child, but she supposes that is exactly the image he had been actively trying to promote. 

He continues. "I would claim them, of course. Avoid scandal, ensure the 'Barton line' doesn't die out. In name, if nothing else." He pauses a moment. "The only restriction to that is once you have left. Timed correctly to coincide with a visit I pay to you, perhaps, but any child conceived after our separation would be held under immense scrutiny. Scrutiny I would rather avoid, if at all possible. I'm sure you can see how that would be prudent in our situation?"

She nods again. It all makes perfect sense. Everything, from the proposal to James's confidence that she should be the one they spring it on. 

She finds it hard to believe, but she agrees with them. It is well thought out, it is fair; generous, even. And she could be free of this place. It would take some time, but eventually.

It is a fair sight better than how she had started the day.

James, seeing her furrowed brow and mistaking it for being overwhelmed by the information, is quick to reassure her. "You are free to take your time with your answer. It is no small thing we are asking of you. Take whatever time you need to think-"

She shakes her head, finding her voice again and cutting him off mid sentence. "I'll do it," she finds herself saying.

She isn't sure who is more shocked, the men in front of her, or herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that explained some stuff if there were any questions. Let me know how it was! Thanks for reading!


	3. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and James try to make sure Natasha knows what she is getting into. While she is less than pleased with the information she is given but she's not willing to give up her shot at freedom over something so trivial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! I do eventually have some longer chapters, but during set up, this is where the chapter cut offs are apparently. I don't know, I'm just the writer. Also, along those same lines, I STILL COULD BE MAKING THINGS UP, BUT I AM MAKING IT WORK FOR MY PURPOSES. I hate doing it that way, but I have no focus for doing it right at the moment. Sorry y'all. :(
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, short as it is! (I still feel bad posting in such small bits :/ )

Clint and Bucky look at each other like they aren't quite following what she said. 

James is the first to speak. "Natasha, you need to think on this. It's not something you can just agree to like it's nothing. This will change your whole life."

Natasha shakes her head, answering him. "I know exactly what this does to my life. It's not like I can be bound any tighter than I already am." Natasha looks steadily at her master. "He already owns me; there will be no change. Slave, wife, what's the difference? In the long run, I have no control over my life. With this, at least there is the promise of getting away at some point."

The men look uncomfortable. "Unless," she narrows her eyes at them in suspicion, "those were just words to paint me a pretty picture and draw me in."

Barton rushed to reassure her. "No! Of course not. I would never even consider promising something I didn't fully intend to follow through with."

"Save a sham of a marriage, of course."

Natasha wasn't concerned with how unfair she was being. There was only so much she could tolerate, and being asked to help the man currently holding the key to her chains was the final straw. She kept reminding herself that if he needed her the way he professed to, she was in the clear. 

If not, well... Then this is as good a way of putting an end to the whole thing as any other she can think of.

_ Refuse _ . The thought keeps popping up in her mind.

Surely she couldn't actually refuse. The moment she did so, she would right back to square one, chained up and thrown in a cell. The guards would enjoy having her back, she was certain. A feisty, little slave, their favorite plaything.

Unfortunately for them, she had learned a little something about resistance as she matured. She knew what it was that men like that enjoyed. It was all about the struggle. As the rings around her wrists and ankles leftover from her time in chains could attest, she had been a perfect participant for that when she was younger.

Now, though, she would refuse to give them the satisfaction. She has a particular talent for sussing out what each person wants most from her and either giving them exactly that, or withholding it, depending which scenario benefited her most.

They wouldn't have nearly the fun with her that they remembered. She was far past the point of begging for her freedom or for their cruel treatment to come to an end.

Barton draws back at her use of the word 'sham' as though struck by her words. They had been said with the goal of wounding in mind, and they had done exactly that. James, beside him, looks taken aback at her barb.

Good. They had to know what they were getting into by choosing her for this. She was definitely not going to make things easy for them.

After all, when had they ever made things easy for her? 

The thought makes her uneasy for some reason but she refuses to examine why.

"Natasha," her master starts. "You have to understand. I will make good on all that I have promised you. The vows we exchange will be kept, insofar as they have been agreed upon behind closed doors, just as all marriages." He pauses. "It will be a true marriage. It must be. You understand that, don't you?"

Natasha blinks at him, awaiting further explanation. When none comes readily, she decides to seek clarification for herself. 'A 'true marriage?' How can it be a 'true marriage' when, surely, your plan is to have as little to do with me as possible?"

"We... will be a part of each other's lives. That much is unavoidable. We must keep up appearances as best we can." He fixes her with a serious look. "We will be forced to coexist and cooperate for the good of the estate, the title I hold as Earl, and the running of the household. You will have most say over the running of the household while I tend to keep to the estate at large, as well as anything required of an Earl." Clint was hedging around something, she could tell. His words were too light for the intensity in his face and posture: the frown, the folded arms. It's all making Natasha increasingly uneasy.

She remains silent, forcing him to continue.

"There will be plenty of crossover, particularly if there are any children produced during our union. They will, at least in name, be  _ our _ children, if not in blood." He was hesitating again, restating information, trying to stall, to think of another way to say what he needs to say, or to avoid it entirely. Eventually, Natasha loses her patience.

"What is it you are trying not to say to me?" Natasha did not hold with beating around the bush. Better to have it out now, before any further plans were made. If there is a reason she should refuse, she needs to know it now. Though she could think of little that would cause her to refuse, seeing as how her refusal would surely result in her being cast out and left to fend for herself. If not that, then a cell to be certain.

"If there is something you think I will find distasteful enough to change my mind, I'd rather hear about it now, before I am too far involved to escape it later."

Barton watches her carefully for a moment, glancing around at James, who nods, and then his body faces back to Natasha even as he fixes his gaze on the floor, arms crossed over his chest again. This time in less of a closed off way and more... protective?

When he finally looks up again, there is nothing guarding his face anymore. The only thing there is an apology and a thinly veiled hope that she will not turn on him now.

"The marriage… must be binding." He says at last, just as Natasha is getting ready to lose her patience with him again. 

That was not at all the kind of thing she was prepared to hear him say.

"We are in a very... unique circumstance. Our union will already be suspicious enough as it is. You will have come from nowhere, and, while we will do our best to disguise your true position here for the last decade, there are bound to be some who are not so easily misled. We can only hope that recognition comes after the deed is done."

Natasha is still stuck on 'the deed,' which her master seemed so eager to skip over. No. She's not letting that go unaddressed. "We are required to consummate the marriage. That's what you're trying to say? Because people will disapprove of your choice of bride?"

"Your union must be legally binding, beyond question. Yes." Her attention is immediately caught by James as he interjects, placing a hand on Barton's shoulder. She had momentarily forgotten his presence with all the new information now racing through her mind. Now, though, she is unable to look away.

He sees her looking and cannot meet her eye.

"Because there will be questions." It's a guess, but she knows she's right by the resigned looks on both of their faces.

"And you? How do you feel about this whole  _ arrangement _ ?" She demands, ignoring Barton for the moment in favor of hearing James' opinion on the whole thing. "Surely you don't agree with this."

James looks to his lover to see how he addresses the outburst.

"Actually, Natasha," Barton's voice is soft as he responds. "It was his idea."

Natasha gapes at them. James doesn't say more so she turns to Barton.

"I was planning to forgo the formalities of the whole thing: the consummation, the formal ceremony, everything. It was James that brought me to my senses. He reminded me that, as much as I would prefer to just marry and have it done with, there are certain expectations that cannot be snubbed." He cringes. "At least, not given the circumstances."

"The circumstances? You mean the fact you don't actually want a  _ wife, _ but are forced to take one anyway."

Natasha hears the words leave her mouth, but she doesn't recall choosing them, much less giving herself permission to say them.

Barton studies her for a moment. When he speaks, he weighs his words carefully. "I feel no need to search any further for someone to share my life with, no. I have found the best partner for myself. It just so happens my choice is... widely frowned upon." He frowns as if in demonstration. "If that is what you mean, then yes. Certain appearances must be kept in order to avoid undue scrutiny."

She sees James squeeze Barton's shoulder where his hand still lays. James spots her watching and he tips his head in a slow nod. The motion, matched with his intense stare, she understands is him encouraging her to capitulate.

She sighs. "Fine. What does- what all does that entail." It is meant as a question, but it comes out clipped, frustration getting the better of her.

James steps forward to answer again, coming in closer to wrap an arm around Barton's shoulders, a hand gripping each of his biceps. "We happen to be in a  _ very _ unique situation. As my position with Clint allows me to be a legal witness to the consummation, it will be less of a formal event. It can be much more intimate than if it were to be a fully public bedding."

He says it all very matter of factly, as if they weren't discussing Natasha having sex for the first time with a man doesn't even like while his lover watches on. 

Then again, perhaps it is healthier for all involved to look at it that way.

"Fine." Natasha concedes. There is little point in fighting it. She has already agreed and she would be damned if she didn't get her freedom now that it was being dangled in front of her face like a carrot to make the horse trot.

Hopefully she gets hers at the end of the ride as well.

Her master straightens a little, like a weight had fallen from his shoulders. "Good. I am glad this hasn't complicated our arrangement." He laughs quietly to himself, reaching out to grab her hand and bring it to his mouth, bending at the waist to place a soft kiss to her knuckles. "Although, something tells me I should have known better than to doubt you."

The words, said looking up at her from his bowed position, send a chill up her spine. Flustered but determined not to show it, she questions, "Will that be all, master?" 

Looking between James and the man still holding her hand, she fears she may not have hidden her reaction very well at all. Still, "Yes. For now."

He lets go of her and her arm falls to her side as he dismisses her with a nod of his head. Quickly, she makes her escape. 

When she agreed to this, it hadn't seemed nearly so dangerous. Turns out, she was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three days down! Not sure how many more there will be as I am still dividing stuff up into chapters. For sure three, but probably more, knowing me. Let me know how it was! I'll be back with more tomorrow!


	4. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is thrown way off by this whole arrangement. James finds her doing "slave work" and tries to correct her because if she is to be the wife of an Earl, that means appropriate activities for the wife of an Earl. Clint finds them after James has already tried to... rectify the situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! I am impressed I am still remembering to post daily. This one is a little longer but only a little over 2k, so still shorter than I try for. But again, the story is breaking where it wants to break so... I'll just do my best to make it worth it. 
> 
> Anyway, same as always, I love historical stuff but have not extensively researched things, just brief searches on google and mostly from my memory of things I have read before. I am still sorry :/ Hope you enjoy anyway!

Natasha has been having doubts.

No, not doubts. Closer to full on panic. If she were younger, she would absolutely be having a panic attack because of her choices.

Now, with no family to either chide her for her poor decisions, nor comfort her that her choice is the best she could make with what she has been given, she's more numb than anything.

All the words her family should have had for her swim in her head. 

_ How could you? It's fighting for them that got us killed! That left you alone in the first place! At his mercy! _

_ He's taking advantage of you! He's going to use his status to draw you in, get you to cooperate, then leave you penniless and ruined! _

_ But I'm the one taking advantage of his offer _ , she would argue.  _ I don't need him, but he does need me. _

_ No nobleman  _ needs _ a slave. You're their plaything. Never forget that. They have servants for working and slaves for play. _

She could see the sneer on her father's face, as cold and disgusted as the last time she had seen it in person.

She would try to persuade them.  _ He opened up to me though. He was  _ vulnerable _ ; it's him who is at my mercy. I could ruin him with what I know. But he's trusting me not to do so. _

He had trusted her. It was… a revelation. One she was unsure what to do with. 

For so long she had painted him in the role of villain. He had been an untouchable force she was indebted to; one which kept her here and kept her loyal, if grudgingly.

She disagrees with some of his politics, true, but she doubts she could find anyone with whom she agrees on  _ everything _ . Come to think of it, (as she is just now starting to) she knows very little of his personal beliefs. She has no idea if he shares his family's views and values. 

She has no reason to believe he wouldn't, but, clearly, he is full of surprises.

She goes about her day, performing tasks on automatic, laundry, cleaning, running around finding things to do in order to keep her hands busy. 

Her mind, though, she has no ability to rein in.

It races ahead, trying to picture what life will become for her as the wife of an Earl. She will be a Countess, she realizes. A Lady. It's terrifying, in an exciting sort of way. 

It's not something she wants, never been a thing she has dreamt of, but it can't be worse than her day to day life is now. She will have servants, she realizes. She finds she is uncomfortable with the thought. 

Perhaps her new husband will be too busy spurning his wife's attention in preference of his lover that he won't notice if she simply doesn't appoint any.

Then again, any servant working under her could be given a life of ease. She would never be too demanding, not coming from the status of a slave.

In fact, she may be able to elevate some of her fellow slaves in the process. There are several others she is fond of. Would her new husband be open to having ex-slaves directly attending to her and other household matters? Or would he be too scandalized? 

His wife as a former slave may be all the sullying of his household he can take.

Then again, would any take her seriously enough to actually serve under her anyway? As a slave, she was the lowest of the low. True, Barton treated his slaves with respect denied them in other households, but probably the majority of people did not share in his apparent belief that slaves were humans and deserve to be treated as such.

Rounding a corner too quickly, she nearly ran directly into a man coming the other way. It was James, she realizes, looking up after catching the basket of dirty rags she was carrying and barely managing to stop it from crashing to the floor.

"Mister Barnes. My apologies, sir." She bows her head slightly. She is already risking getting in trouble for not paying attention, the last thing she needs is someone to see her refusing to afford her superiors their due respect.

"Natasha." He nods his head to her as well, surprising her. She had half expected him to ignore her and go on about his day.

His eyes drift from her face down to the load in her arms as she readjusts the basket on her hip. His brow furrows in confusion. "What are you doing with these?"

She looks down at the basket as well. Feeling uneasy at the question, she answers, "My job?" It was far from respectful, but she was too caught off guard to properly monitor her tone.

He reaches out to take the basket from her. "This is no longer your job." 

Seeing the movement and drawing the basket away, out of reach, she turns and sets out on her path again. "I have been assigned nothing else," she argues. "And I am still a slave. Much as the reminder may displease you. And your  _ Master. _ "

She knows the inflection she placed on the word 'master' is an unnecessary threat. It's a reminder of the power she now holds over them both. 

Normally she wouldn't be so keen on continuing to do her work. If she had been told in any other way to stop her duties, she would have been more than happy to do so.

But the blatant questioning, the implication that she was doing something wrong, that she had overlooked some aspect of their agreement and was acting foolish, it rankled. So she was reacting a bit more defensively than the situation probably called for.

James follows close behind her. She had started out with several steps of a head start; not much, but enough that he had some catching up to do. It was too soon when he was falling into step beside her. He continues following her all the way into the room where the washing was done.

When she pauses to open the door, he grasps the handles of the basket and pulls them from her hands. She lets out a gasp of frustration as he steps inside ahead of her.

Letting the door fall shut behind them, she reaches out to take the washing back from him. The man had been anticipating her movement and quickly faces his body away from her, effectively blocking her grab.

"Give that back." Natasha is not in the mood for this today. With all the uncertainty their agreement has caused her, this angers her more than it should. She can see the amusement in his eyes as she moves around him to try and grab the basket again, only for it to be spun out of reach once more.

"No." His face holds a challenge Natasha is sure she shouldn't rise to. And yet…

Whirling around him again, she manages to get a hand on the basket. Tugging, she tests his hold on it. It gives just enough that she gets it back into her space. "Yes."

When he yanks it back, she comes with it, arms still locked in the same position, bringing her into his personal space, nearly causing her to lose her balance. 

She glares at him, their faces close enough she can see the different shades of blues and greys in his eyes. He is entirely too pleased with himself.

"I said, no." He wrenches the basket from her hands again, with a strength she can't match.

She does her best not to grab onto him, but only manages to break her fall by catching herself with her hands pressed to his chest. He has placed the basket on a work table next to them, just out of reach for her, obviously in an attempt to end the pointless, childish scuffle between the two of them.

Her face is hot as she feels him watching her, worse when she looks up and sees his smile. She hasn't removed herself from where she fell, still leaned against him.

She is breathing hard, more from emotion than exertion. The frustration, the anger, the vulnerability of being told she was doing something wrong...

She looks down at her hands, feeling the muscles of his chest as he moves to place a hand over both of hers, pressing them together, his other hand coming to rest on her waist.

She flexes her fingers, digging in to feel the give of his flesh. Peeking up at him from beneath her eyelashes, she feels the intensity in how he is looking at her. 

She allows herself to lean further into his body, the warmth she feels radiating off of him setting her on edge, but not in the way she would have expected.

He shifts his weight to allow her closer, so their bodies touch rather than just their hands. His grip on her waist tightens. She can feel his breathing change the closer she gets to him. 

He removes his hand from her waist and she sees it come up behind her, set to land somewhere on her back or shoulder blades, maybe even her neck or head. 

She doesn't wait to find out.

She has snuck between his body and the table while his guard was down and grabbed the basket before he even processes her movement. She makes her way to the back of the room, intent on starting the washing now that she has bested him.

She completely ignores the blood pooled in her face, coloring her cheeks as well as the pounding of her heart. Simply explained away by the physical rush that comes with winning, she assures herself.

She hears the low chuckle as she works, and when he speaks, she must be imagining it, but it sounds rougher than his normal speaking voice. "Well played, Natasha. Very clever."

He keeps his distance this time when he approaches her, but she can still feel the way he is looking at her. The intensity hasn't changed. He has conceded the game to her, but only this time.

When she doesn't respond, he finds another work table to perch on, one foot still firmly on the floor while the other dangles a few inches above. He folds his arms and settles in to watch.

When she has finished her task, she turns to look at him. He hasn't moved, using the time she was occupied to study her. Suddenly she feels like it was unwise to remain in this room with him alone.

Shaking herself internally, she squares her shoulders. "Did you need something from me, sir? Or were you merely distracting me as a form of entertainment?"

"Oh, distracting you, was I? And here I thought  _ you _ were the one distracting  _ me _ ." He smirked at the blood returning to her face.

" _ Forgive me, _ sir. But I really do need to be getting back to my duties. You will have to find a different way to try and get me in trouble. Surely there must be some way that doesn't require you to be down here keeping company with the slaves."

James looked hurt by her words, mouth dropped open in shock. "Natasha, that wasn't-"

She turns away from him and strides out of the room. She needs space. 

She has no idea where the unkindness had come from. It was very unlike her to be so cruel without cause. 

All she knows right now is she feels defenseless in his presence, like she is prey being stalked.

In that room, it had felt like they were almost equals. And that was a dangerous way for her to think. She could just imagine all the ways that would get her in trouble down the road.

Natasha had to be careful to remember, they weren't all on one team. It was her and them. Just as it had always been.

She doesn't hear the door shutting behind her and knows that James is on his way to catch up with her. She hears his footsteps a couple of seconds before she feels him breeze up next to her.

"Natasha, I-"

They round a corner and at the other end of the hall, their master is walking towards them purposefully.

"Barnes." He takes in Natasha next to him and gives James a sly smirk. "Ah. So that's where you snuck off to. Good. You will accompany us, then?"

He is asking, but it is obvious she can't really refuse.

Glancing around to see if others are around to watch, she nods, agreeing. "Yes, Master."

She looks to Barnes to see his reaction. His lips are pressed into a line, but he gestures for her to follow Barton as he marches away. She nods curtly, thankful they wouldn't have the chance to have whatever conversation he was planning.

Now she prepares herself to face the both of them together again, unsure if it's better or worse that way.

When they come to a stop, James steps forward to open the door in front of them. Barton gestures for Natasha to precede them through the door. She does so, curious.

She had been trying to pick apart her interaction with James from moments ago and had let her mind wander, not realizing where she was being led. That had been a mistake.

She recognized it as soon as she crossed the threshold. This was the hall with the Earl's bedchamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the tomorrow should be normal but the next day may be weird. I am flying to California so hopefully the plane time works in my favor but with my anxiety, idk.
> 
> But thank you for reading and I hope it has been worth it so far!


	5. Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and James have something for Natasha to help try to build their relationship so it's less rocky and maybe ease things for Natasha a bit. Natasha is still trying to catch up with all of this new information and having a hell of a time in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm gonna hang my head in shame now. I took two days to post even though I had the chapter done and basically just needed to edit. In my defense, I was in a car for 7+ hours the first day which massively fucks with my head and then on a four hour flight the next day, hanging out with my boyfriend's family since then. 
> 
> This chapter and the one before this have not been read through by anyone by me, so hopefully they are still okay, even if they're not quite top quality. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Natasha feels uncertain as she enters the bedchamber. She has never been to this area of the manor before. She has had no reason to. Now, finding herself in unfamiliar territory with two men she isn't sure she trusts, her heartbeat races, betraying her fear.

Why would she be brought here? Surely there was no reason for her to be brought to her Master's bedchamber?

But there were reasons a woman might be brought to her  _ future husband's _ bedchamber.

That was NOT the deal they had made. She whirled around to face Barton, ready to protest that this was definitely not what they had agreed upon. She had been under the impression she had more time, that perhaps they could reach a point together where she didn't feel they were still enemies before she had to face this part of her decision.

When she was facing him, however, she saw him leaning against the wall just inside the door, one arm folded over his chest, and one hand being used to cover his mouth, obscuring the smile gracing his lips.

The bastard! He had seen her reaction and thought it was funny!

He must see the anger flare in her eyes because he pushes himself up off of the wall and approaches her slowly, careful to not inflame her further.

"I apologize if this comes as a surprise to you. I had assumed that was what you and James were discussing when I found you." 

"You mean he didn't follow your orders? You sent him with a job to do, and he didn't follow through." It's a bit cruel of her to point it out to his master. 

_ Their _ master,  _ his _ lover, she supposes. But she is still rather upset about the whole thing, as she was left feeling particularly unbalanced after the moment they shared just before Barton had found them.

"No, not that at all." Clint still looks amused, peeking back at the other man, even as Natasha tries to get his servant/lover in trouble. "In fact, James sought you out on his own. I gave no order for him to find you."

Behind Barton, James stares resolutely at the floor, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze. Barton looks practically giddy, barely able to hide his smile when he turns back to face Natasha. He does catch the tail end of her scowl, which gives him pause and makes him look between the two in confusion for a moment.

"Well, I can see that, whatever passed between you, there was no mention of your new room." He gestures around them, eyes flicking up to the ceiling. "I'm not sure of your family's circumstances before you came to live here, but I am sure this must at least be comparable, if not better. At the very least, it is a great improvement from the quarters you have been residing in since you came to us."

That was not even close to what Natasha had been expecting. She looks around, eyes glossing over everything in the room in pure shock. This new information is too much for her to truly process.

Looking around again, she tries to gather her thoughts. "Surely you can't mean to give me such a nice room. Master." She adds on automatic. She has long since perfected the balance of respect to disobedience. 

Disagreeing, provided it is done respectfully,  _ may _ be permissible, while disrespect, even when agreeing, is a worse punishment when caught by those in charge of the slaves. "Allowing a slave, or even a normal servant-"

Her light protests were cut off. "James and I had a conversation after our meeting last night. Several, in fact." Clint looks to James as if for permission to continue. When James nods, the movement is curt, like he expects whatever explanation that follows to go poorly. "He shared his concerns that certain things had not been made clear."

"This is a gesture of good faith." He says, studying her face and interpreting the wide eyed shock there correctly. "An assurance that all of what was promised to you, I intend to follow through with. This is where you will stay until we are married."

_ Ah,  _ she thinks. This is the beginning of disguising her position here. They intend to make her seem more respectable before announcing their impending nuptials. It hadn't been discussed the day before, but she supposes it makes the most sense for this to be the first step.

Inviting James into the room further with a simple wave of his hand, he continues. "We both want you to be comfortable with this arrangement. We are aware of how much of a sacrifice this is for you, even though it appears to be only to your benefit."

James cuts Clint off, sensing something in the conversation path that Natasha hadn't picked up on. "What he means is, we don't want you to think your sacrifice is lost on us. From the surface, it appears you are getting the better end of the deal. Between the three of us, we understand that things aren't quite as they appear."

"We want you to be comfortable with us, but that means you must trust us. We were hoping this might be a step towards that."

Clint had rolled his eyes when James had taken over speaking for them, but by the end he was looking at the man with such love it made Natasha's heart ache a little.

What it must be like to be loved in such a way. And to be able to love someone in return.

"Yes, I hope you accept this as a step forward in our relationship. And please," he gestures around the spacious room, devoid of any other witnesses, as he eases from the more sensitive tone he and James had taken on for the more intimate conversation. "When we're alone, you are not bound by such strict social rules. You may call me Clint. I've never been the kind to stand on propriety. Particularly on matters between a man and his wife." There is a glint in his eyes as he says it, like some sort of joke.

She supposes that's just what it is.

Natasha allows her gaze to flit over to James. Barton- Clint- sees the motion and follows, turning to his lover, looking him up and down in a way that makes Natasha feel like an intruder, but snapping out of the moment quickly enough she isn't sure she didn't imagine it. 

"James doesn't count." He says, winking at the man as he straightens to focus on Natasha again. "I can assure you, he has no plans to run and tattle on you for a lack of respect."

"Yes, I suppose that would be counterproductive to your… cause." In truth, Natasha hadn't even thought about that. She had been more concerned with how James would feel about her encroaching on his territory. 

Not that she would be admitting that any time soon.

A sly look appears in Barton's eyes. Clint's eyes.  _ His _ eyes. Natasha watches it take over his features.

Keeping his eyes on James, he says in a strange voice, "He seems to be rather fond of you, as well. It likely wouldn't be helpful for his cause either."

James appears to be turning a very light shade of pink. Teasing, Natasha realizes. The strange tone was teasing. Clint had been teasing James.

About being fond of Natasha.

"She seemed the best candidate. From what little I knew of her." His voice sounds defensive, in the instinctive way that one has no control over.

Of course. James had been the one to pick Natasha, Clint had said so yesterday. Picking the woman his lover was to marry would be an easy way to poke fun at him. 

Or maybe it had more to do with the fact he knew enough about Natasha to understand that she would be amenable to their plans, despite her being a slave. Picking on him for associating low enough for him to recognize her as a good candidate the way he had.

She finds herself wanting to say something in his defense. She is thankful to be given this opportunity, much as she dreads the whole thing. If Clint keeps his word, she will be regaining some autonomy over her own life.

And she is beginning to think he might be a man of his word.

Then again, should she be thankful to the man for unlocking chains he and his family had placed her in in the first place?

She is saved from having to decide whether or not she should say something by Clint (using his given name was going to take some getting used to) speaking to James. 

"Well, would you be so kind as to fetch her trunk from her quarters for her? Bring her things up so she can start to settle in a bit?" Sensing Natasha's stare, wide eyed with surprise, he checks. "If that's alright with you, of course?"

She was being asked her opinion? On something as trivial as whether she was alright with James bringing up her one small trunk and single bag of belongings so she can settle into her new room.

Holy shit, she has a new room. 

Her own room.

Nodding her head dumbly, she forces herself to find her voice again. "Yes. That would be fine."

Clint nods to James, who in turn tips his head to Natasha and heads for the door. He's almost through when Natasha jolts to her senses.

"James." He freezes, foot raised to step through the threshold. He pauses a second before turning back, holding the door frame with one hand to look over his shoulder. She waits until he locks eyes with her to speak.

"Thank you." She hopes he sees the rest of the words she can't quite bring herself to say to him, the truce she's proposing from their… encounter earlier.

He smiles softly, just the corner of his mouth ticking up. He nods again, and she knows he understood. She gives him a small smile back and he exits the room to collect her things.

Maybe they were right. Maybe they could take steps towards having a decent relationship. Despite what has apparently been her best attempts at stopping that from happening.

Barton clears his throat behind her. She startles; he is much closer than she remembers him being when she turned to speak to James at the door.

She is alone with him, she realizes. And she has no idea what to expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not beta read/edited other than by myself. And that was done with a lot of noise I don't usually deal with, so if anything crazy stands out, let me know! Hope it was good! Back with more, hopefully tomorrow :)


	6. Fondness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha share a confusing conversation while James is out of the room. From Natasha's perspective, at least, it raises as many questions as it answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6! Three more ready to go after their final read through. By the time those are posted I will be back home from California, so it will be much easier to get things done.
> 
> Thanks for reading and being patient with me as I go! Still really short chapters, not sure why but that's what is happening. Enjoy!

She turns around with trepidation. The door had shut behind James with an echo, the sound ominous in the room.

At some point, Clint must have decided to approach her. She felt his presence even though he moved silently enough she hadn't heard it.

When she finally looks back, she's face to face with the man again.

She finds it alarming, but not in the same way it used to be. 

He wears a smile, one he appears to be carefully forcing to stay in place. Making himself seem less threatening to her, perhaps? She can't imagine why that would be his reasoning, but that is the outcome. 

After all, why would he try to seem less threatening to his future wife? Wouldn't that be counterproductive to maintaining control over her in his life?

"So, Natasha. How do you find your new room?" He gestures around, spreading his arms wide and backing away a few steps, looking around them as if he is also acquainting himself with his surroundings.

"You are too kind, My Lord." She grits the words out. They don't rankle the way they used to, even just the day before, but they still sit wrong on her tongue. "Surely this is too grand for a simple slave such as myself."

He must hear the sarcasm behind her words but he chooses to ignore it anyway. Probably for the better.

Instead, he responds with more kindness, almost… friendliness? Not before he lets out a laugh though. "My dear Natasha, I get the feeling you are anything but simple. In fact, I'd wager you are something rather special. To have captured James' attention the way you have, you must be very-" he pauses, cocking his head to the side before settling on the word, " _ enticing _ to him."

There it was again. He had done a wonderful job at making it clear she was not his choice, but rather James'. She chooses to focus on that bit of his speech rather than try to dissect the meaning behind the rest of it.

"You keep pointing that out. That James is the one who chose me." Clint stares at her, expression neutral save for his raised eyebrows, obviously a signal for her to go ahead and ask whatever question she clearly had.

"If you were displeased with his choice, could you not have just found another you felt was better suited to this life?"

It had been niggling in the back of her mind since he had first referenced her being brought in by James. It was a question she needed answered before they proceeded any further. If he had any protests to being tied to her for the rest of their lives, why was he allowing this ruse to continue?

"Ah, but you misunderstand. I have no complaints about his choice." He winked at her, then went about trying to answer her question. "Since I'm the one in need of a wife, I felt it would be… unfair to choose one for myself. There is all kinds of potential for problems to arise if I were to choose someone I had my eye on." He explained it a bit ruefully. It didn't seem like he was disappointed by the decision. More like he didn't enjoy having to think about it. Like the whole thing weighed heavily on him.

Natasha processed that for a moment. "So you allowed him to choose with the expectation of being unhappy? To  _ ensure you wouldn't become happy with someone else?" _

Truly she wasn't understanding what he was trying to communicate. All the pieces were there, but she was still missing something. The picture she needed to see in order to put it all together. 

"I allowed him to choose so that there was a symmetry between us." After a pause, he continued. "This whole thing was his idea, to marry someone for show. He came to me with the concept of finding someone I could be with publically, so there would be less suspicion cast on us."

Clint scoffed softly. "As soon as I told him I would even consider it, he started hounding me with questions of who I would choose. So by the time I gave in and admitted it did seem to be the best way of going about things, I had a condition."

Natasha nods along to his explanation. She could feel understanding building in her mind, but it was still all hidden behind a closed door.

"I told him I would agree to marry someone, provided it was a woman of  _ his _ choosing. That way, with any luck, we would be able to avoid any possible jealousy. True, I would spend time with whoever he chose publicly, but he wouldn't have any fear of being displaced. Choosing someone with a stronger connection to him than to me seemed to be the best compromise."

Natasha was stunned. They lapsed into silence. 

As she thinks about it, it does make sense. Clint would be spending a lot of time with his new wife for a good long while, needing to keep up appearances of a happy newlywed. She could easily see his lover experiencing jealousy over something like that.

It was all very… respectful of his partner. Clint was going out of his way to ensure James felt as comfortable as possible with this arrangement that, by all accounts, he should not be a part of, thus giving him a position of almost equal standing in the whole thing.

That just left one question.

"But why me? There is no connection between James and myself. He is a servant,  _ your _ servant." The most she had seen of the other man was in passing. The same as their master. "What could he possibly know of me to think I wouldn't pose a threat to your plans?"

That damned gleam was back in Clint's eyes again. "I don't think for a second he recommended you because he thought you wouldn't pose a threat."

He let the words settle for a moment.

"But then what in the world would have caused him to pick me?!" Natasha was fast growing exasperated with this conversation.

Clint, on the other hand, just kept smiling, getting wider and wider with every hint she was given.

"Suffice it to say, whatever he saw, he must have been very fond of. It was a very short list of candidates he came to me with." He started making his way over to one of the chairs in the corner of the room, gesturing to them and silently asking permission to sit in them. She nods on automatic. She feels no sense of connection with this room or it's furniture; it's not hers, why should she care where he sits?

Testing the cushion of one of the seats, he settles in like he expects to be here for a while. Raising his eyebrows expectantly, he pats the chair directly beside it.

Making her way over to him without giving it any conscious thought, she sits. Grinning, he continues their conversation right where they left off. "In fact, this whole thing may have caused a terrible turning of the tables. And not in my favor."

Giving up on riddling things out for herself for the afternoon, she questions. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"He found you this morning. And it wasn't on my orders that he did so." He leans back, an elbow resting on the arm of his chair, chin cupped in his palm so he is leaning away from Natasha, giving him more room to study her. "Since you were surprised by the room, you clearly weren't discussing what I thought you were discussing. So, tell me: what was it you were up to? I get the distinct feeling I missed out on something."

Natasha can feel her cheeks heating at the reminder. She had treated James as she would any other man getting in her way. She had preyed on the weakness that plagued most men when it came to most women: they stopped thinking with their heads.

She had completely forgotten who he was in that moment. It shouldn't have worked; he was obviously very devoted to Clint. 

And yet, it  _ had _ worked. She had distracted him just as she had intended, and he had reacted in just the way she had learned a man would.

How could she explain to this man, who was both her master as well as her promised husband, that she had baited his lover?

And worse, that it had worked?

The panic must have shown on her face because there was an evil grin spreading across his. "Ah ha, so there was something!"

Natasha was very uncomfortable with where the rest of this conversation was heading. "I'm not sure what you're implying, My Lord, but there was nothing untoward that passed between us, I can assure you of that."

She couldn't meet his gaze as she said it.

"Natasha, please. Clint." He sighs, changing his approach to their conversation. "I wasn't implying anything. James has my full trust. Despite what you seem to think of me, he is his own man and I encourage that as much as I can. I have no desire to hold him back from the things he desires."

"Provided the things he desires coincide with the things you do?"

There is a sound outside the door that nearly drowns out Natasha's words. The door swings open and in walks James himself, carrying Natasha's meager belongings, amounting to a single wooden chest in his arms and a travel bag hanging from his shoulder.

Natasha stands up from her seat across from Clint, intent on approaching James and relieving him of his burden. She is looking forward to putting her things away in this room, with the hope that the action of settling in will make it seem more real, more hers.

She almost missed the words when Clint spoke. "On the contrary, I believe he is better at showing me the things I desire than I am at recognizing them for myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it was okay! Again, not beta read/edited by anyone but myself so lemme know any big issues if you see them!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, constructive criticism are all very welcome! I love to hear things from people!


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